


Coming home – delta waves style

by keepcalmanddonotblink, MashiarasDream



Series: Hello, Dean [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is dead and in heaven, Dean POV, Dean can find his way to Heaven accidentally in a dream, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Post Season 9, dream - Freeform, he's waiting for Dean, is what Death told Cas anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepcalmanddonotblink/pseuds/keepcalmanddonotblink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is still coping with the aftermath of killing Cas. Only in his dreams does he sometimes find some peace. </p><p>Cas is dead and he has decided to forgo being reborn as a new angel and wait in Dean's Heaven for Dean. Death told him that Dean might be able to pierce the veil through prayers and dreams, even before he dies. But so far, it's all been waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming home – delta waves style

Maybe it shouldn’t feel this good, driving along a deserted stretch of countryside in the middle of the night, but the radio was blaring and he was on his way to the Roadhouse, not to a job. He tapped his hand on the steering wheel, drumming out the rhythm of the song.

Next thing he knew he had a beer in his hand.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?”

“’S all good, Ellen”, he smiled. “’S all good.”

She sat a bottle of whiskey and a shot-glass in front of him. “Glad to hear it.”

“Is Jo in?”

“You keep your fingers off of my daughter!”

“Yes, Ma’am”, he chuckled. In truth, Jo was easy enough on the eyes, but she’d probably cut off his nuts if he tried anything with her. “Just wanted to say Hi.”

“I’ll tell her you were in.”

“Thanks, Ellen.”

He looked around and took the atmosphere in. It was always good to be here. Surrounded by friends, good music in the background and Texan Star was undoubtedly the best beer ever.

“Hey, man! Long time no see!” Ash greeted him and Dean smiled while the guy with the most ridiculous haircut ever sat down opposite from him. “How are you doing?”

“I am good. I am really good.” And deep down Dean felt that it was the truth. He hadn't felt this good for a long time. Regardless, right now he couldn’t imagine being somewhere else, right now everything was okay.

He felt inexplicably good behind the steering wheel. His Baby was purring nicely. He let his fingers glide along the dashboard. Bobby’s wasn’t far off. The sun was blaring down and he let the heat soak into his bones through the open windows. Driving, just driving.

“Welcome home, son.”

“Bobby.” He hugged him tight, clapping him on the back a few times before letting go. He knew it made the old man happy.

“You seen John lately, son?”

“John?” Dean crinkled his nose. There was something, it was on the tip of his tongue, but no, he couldn’t remember. “Nah, haven’t seen him in a while. ‘S alright. I can cope without him.”

“Never said you couldn’t.”

Dean couldn’t help it: “You are getting soft in your old days, man.”

That got him a huff from Bobby who was so much more a father to him than John ever could be. Best thing he’d ever learned from Bobby: family don't end with blood.

“Careful, boy”, Bobby mock-warned him and Dean couldn't help but grin. The familiarity of the easy banter was something he’d sorely missed.

Dean had always enjoyed long rides. Being on the road gave him a feeling of freedom.  
When nothing mattered but going forward and when he could let his mind wander without overthinking everything. He loved the sound the Impala made when he accelerated, loved the smell of the leather seats. He loved how Baby ate up the miles, never stuttering, never whining, just rolling. He loved everything about being on the long lonesome road to a destination unknown.

“Have I ever told you how we met Chuck, the first prophet?” Dean asked and Kevin looked up.

“No. You haven't.”

“Well, then you've been missing a very strange and funny story.” Dean continued and Kevin had this open, curious look on his face. Dean couldn't help it, he really liked this kid.

Kevin was a good listener, too. He hardly ever interrupted Dean and that made Dean even fonder of the boy.

When the story reached the incident with the little girl and the band-aids, Kevin cracked up.

His laughter filled the air and it made Dean chuckled with him though the joke was at his expense.

“I wish I had seen that.”

“Well, next Gas’n’Sip, find whatever kiddo band-aids you want, rockets, flowers, unicorns, I don’t care. Next time I get hurt, you can put them on me.”

“Are you serious?” Kevin wanted to know and Dean could clearly hear the disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, sure.”

And he was, because he wanted Kevin to smile and laugh and he had little other way to do it. So he’d play the clown. Because Kevin was family, was like a second brother and he felt like in this moment the world was great. Everything was just right.

The leather of the seat squeaked slightly when he adjusted his butt. The stretch of highway through Kansas in front of him endless and straight. But it wasn’t far now. He was almost home. He looked in the rearview mirror, making sure Sammy was alright. His lanky frame was slumped into a snoring huddle. That was alright. At 14, everyone needed their beauty sleep. He’d be nice and rested when they were there. Even had a bit of spare money left, so they could splurge and buy some pie. Dean smiled. Life was good.

The pan clattered to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. “Holy mother of…!”

Dean froze. There was a man in his mother’s kitchen. He was wearing her floral-printed apron.

“Dean!” The man gasped, not even trying to pick up the quadrazillion of shards on the floor.

His blue eyes were big as sauce platters.

Dean took a step backwards.

“No! No! Dean!” In one swift, desperate motion, the man closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his back. “I’m so glad to see you, Dean. It’s been so long.”

He couldn’t do anything else, just stood there and let himself be hugged.

The man held him at arms’ length and frowned at him: “You’re not dead.”

“Why…” he stumbled another step backward, “why would I be dead?”

Slowly, the arms let go of him. Head tilted to the side, a cautious expression on his face: “Do you know who I am?”

Now that was ridiculous: “Of course I know who you are, Cas! What the hell are you doing in my mother’s kitchen? And why are you baking pies?” he added when he suddenly noticed that every available surface was filled with fresh-baked, sweet smelling pies.

A slow smile spread on Cas’ face: “For you, Dean. Why else would I be baking pies?”

Stunned, Dean just rocked on his heels for a moment. But that was: “Cool! Can I try them?”

“You most certainly can!”

Suddenly he had a fork in his hand and he started digging into the first pie.

“Apple! I love apple!” he exclaimed before moving on to the next: “Cherry! Cherry’s like almost as good! Or actually, it might be better!”

He had worked his way through half a dozen pies before he noticed that Cas wasn’t eating: “What about you, dude?”

“Thank you. But I don’t need to eat.”

“But you’re not an angel anymore.” That was true, wasn’t it? There was something about his grace.

“That is quite correct.”

This time Cas’ smile verged on the sad and it gave Dean a real bad feeling in his stomach. He laid the fork down and squinted at Cas, trying to remember.

“Dean…” Cas said and stretched his hand out towards him.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Blood on Cas’ face and his hands and on the angel blade. Dean’s eyes widened as he remembered.

“Dean! Don’t!”

 

_He woke gasping and shuddering in his bed, the sheets sweat through and Sam’s sleepy voice from the other bed asking “Dean? You alright?”_

_He needed a moment to find his voice: “Yeah. Yeah, I am fine. Go back to sleep, Sam.”_

_He shuddered one more time and turned to his other side. It had been nice, so nice. He could almost still feel the hug. He laid his arms around himself, a poor replacement for Cas’ warmth, but if he tried really hard, maybe he could conjure up that nice dream again. It was the best he had felt in months._

 

The kitchen chair was smaller than he remembered. “I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Jesus!” This time nothing broke when Cas startled.

“Lawrence’s a nice town, you know”, he said, ignoring surprised gasp.

Cas’ features softened when he sat the bowl down that he was holding in his hand and came a few steps closer to Dean. “Hello, Dean”, he said smiling. “You have good memories of this place, that’s for sure.”

“She used to bake me pies, too, you know. My mom.”

“Yes, I know.” Cas smiled and slid on the chair next to him.

“Why are you baking me pies?” Dean asked and fixed a direct stare on Cas.

“Because I want to”, was the simple answer.

“But I killed you”, Dean said. He hadn’t forgotten that.

Cas’ eyes widened for a moment but his voice stayed even when he nodded: “Yes, you did.”

“And you saved me”, Dean went on. He hadn’t forgotten that, either.

This time, he got a small, self-satisfied smile: “Yes, I did.”

“You shouldn’t have. You could be alive if you hadn’t.”

Cas hummed a few soundless notes.

“I wouldn’t have to live with the guilt, then.”

Now Cas looked up at him sharply: “But I would have to live without you.”

“Beats being dead.”

“No, Dean, hard as that may be for you to understand, it doesn’t.”

They were quiet after that for a while.

“I wish you were there. With us. In the bunker”, Dean finally said. He absentmindedly fumbled along the scar of the mark as he always did when he was emotional now.

“Does your arm hurt?” Cas asked him quietly.

Dean shook his head. He showed the mark to Cas. “Your doing, isn’t it?”

Another slight smile, barely grazing the edges of his lips. “The grace’s doing. It rerouted the connection.”

“So it’s connected to you now?”

“Do you mind?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t mind. It’s –“, he looked up fleetingly but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold Cas’ gaze so he didn’t even try, “it’s helped. When I, when the pain was too…” but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence, so he just hung his head.

“Dean”, the worry in the voice was palpable and induced even more guilt. Warm fingers found their way to his and cupped his hand. “I did what I had to. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean shook his head: “It’s not – it’s not even the killing part.” Now this was something he didn’t even want to admit to himself. “It’s – the before. You know?” he added, hopeful that he didn’t have to explain this any further.

“You mean – the kiss”, Cas’ voice had gone flat.

“Yeah. That.”

“You regret it.”

“Hell yeah.”

Cas’ voice was instantly guarded: “Dean, if you don’t mind me asking… what exactly do you regret?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you regret the manner of the kiss – or the kiss itself?”

Dean’s eyes shot up. That was not what he’d expected. “Cas, I… What about you?” he turned the questions around when he didn’t know how to continue.

Cas’ eyes were hard but his voice stayed soft. Dean had the impression that it was for his sake. That Cas didn’t want to spook him “I minded that you wanted to break me with it. That, I minded a lot.”

“But not…?”

“The kiss itself? No, Dean, I didn’t mind that.”

They were silent after that.

“There’s no bees here”, Cas finally said.

“What?” Dean’s thoughts had been hung up on the feel of Cas’ lips.

“I miss the bees. I always liked them.”

“There’s bees in Lawrence”, Dean protested.

“We’re not in Lawrence, Dean.”

“We’re in my mom’s kitchen!” In his mom’s kitchen circa 1982 to be precise. How could they be…? “We’re in my dream, aren’t we?”

Cas nodded.

“So you’re all in my head, huh?”

The look Cas gave him was weird. Intense he was used to, but this was - calculating. “So, if it’s just you in your head, where is the harm in giving me an answer?”

“About?”

“About the kiss, Dean.” Slight exasperation had found its way into Cas’ voice.

“You sound like Sammy when he’s mad at me”, Dean grumbled.

Cas shook his head. “Not even in your own head, huh? Well”, he sighed deeply, “in case you ever manage to get past this hang-up of yours... You have my consent. Not demon-you. But you. I want you to know that.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to shake his head: “You’re just a figment. Of my fucking imagination. Just myself making up what I want to hear.”

“What you want to hear?” Cas’ eyes suddenly lit up.

“Fuck yes, what I want to hear. But you know how I know it’s fake? How I know it’s just me?” His voice was too bitter and too loud: “Cause I fucking broke Cas. His body, his mind, his heart. So he’d never be okay with this. He’d never – want me.”

“You didn’t break me, Dean. I won’t deny that you have power over me. More than I ever let anyone else have. But that is just it, Dean – I let you have this power. You didn’t break me.”

“Shut up.” But it sounded weak and measly even to Dean’s own ears. He wanted to be told this. He wanted to hear that he hadn’t fucked things up beyond repair. Of course for repair you needed two people. And Cas was dead.

There was a hot burning behind his eyes. He hadn’t cried since that time in the shower after he’d found the angel’s mark on his arm. Instinctively he clutched it, digging his fingernails into the skin hard.

“Dean”, Cas’ fingers softly closed around his to loosen his hold, “don’t do this to yourself. There is no need. Not here. Not about me. And I – I do want you, Dean. I want you.”

He felt the hot tears burning into him and he had to rip his arm away from Cas’ touch to keep them from scorching him. No, not Cas’ touch, what his mind was suggesting to him was Cas’ touch.

“Dean!” There was so much pleading in the voice that he suddenly had trouble breathing.

Dean’s chair clattered backwards as he got up. He wanted to scream and punch things, anything to make the pain go away, anything to stop the tears that were spilling out.

Cas had gotten up, too, and when Dean made the mistake of looking at him, his eyes shone bright with his own brand of unshed tears and it was too much, it was just too much.

He rushed forward, gathering the other man in his arms, feeling his lean body under him. Fuck it, if he couldn’t make things good again with the real Cas, he’d be damned if he let his dream counterpart be sad. Dean was still crying and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t the most attractive thing of all times, but he didn’t give a fuck, and neither did dream-Cas apparently, because he clung onto him and hugged him back.

Dean lifted his head from Cas’ shoulder just to see that the brightness was now spilling over on Cas’ cheeks, too.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry”, he said hoarsely.

“I’m not, I’m not”, Cas shook his head, the tears belying his words.

So Dean just crushed them together and brought his mouth down on Cas’. He felt the breath hitch and for a second, Cas lost his balance, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he leaned into Dean’s touch.

Yeah, it was his mind, all his mind, cause Cas should be scared or maybe stabbing him but not melting into his kiss. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”, he mumbled into Cas’ open lips before bringing them together again.

As an answer, Cas’ hand came up, grabbing a firm grip in Dean’s hair. The hand whose wrist he had broken. But here, in his dream, it stroked his hair and held him tight and he started sobbing again.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay to cry.” He felt his head drawn down onto Cas’ shoulder again, cradled and embraced. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it, not even in his dream.

“I’ll keep you safe, Dean. I’ll always keep you safe.”

The tears just didn’t want to stop flowing, so he hid his face in the shallow inclination of Cas’ neck.

Soft strokes down his back: “Shh, it’s all good. It’s all going to be good, Dean. This is the place where everything is going to be okay.”

Cause he was home. Cause he was home now. Home in Lawrence. No, home with Cas. “Please, Cas, please forgive me. Please.” He was reduced to a sobbing mess and he knew it but he didn’t care, letting himself be rocked in strong arms.

“I have forgiven you already, Dean. You know that.”

The warmth in the voice, the – love, it made his mouth go dry and he jerked his head up, looking into the bright blue eyes, now also red from crying, but still the brightest blue he’d ever seen. And the same warmth was in the eyes and he just - it was too tempting and he let himself fall into the illusion and he smiled and he leaned forward and kissed him again.

 

_His pillow was positively soaked when he woke up. So he had actually cried._

_Sam gave him a strange look when he came out of the bathroom: “You okay, dude?”_

_Dean sat up in bed. There was a strange lightness where his heart normally was so heavy. Like something had changed. Like Cas had really forgiven him. Like Cas really – loved him._

_He had to clear his throat at the thought. He had done his damnedest to avoid going down this road for – well, basically ever. Since the moment he had met Cas._

_“Dean? You alright?”_

_He looked up at Sam, whose presence he had completely forgotten for a moment there. Then he nodded, hesitant and unsure, but: “Yeah, yeah, Sammy. I think I’m – I’m alright.” And then, a little more secure this time: “Yeah. Now that I think about it - I think I’m actually going to be alright.”_


End file.
